


On Your Left

by brooklynbex



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Romance, Smut, Up until the last five minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynbex/pseuds/brooklynbex
Summary: My take on how Endgame could have "resolved" for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.





	On Your Left

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to follow. Bear with me—I started this in June but work got in the way. My inspiration/creativity is resurfacing though!

STEVE

The skin of Steve’s face feels tight and heavy, caked with dirt and dust and matted by salty tears. Although his breathing is in the process of evening out, the expansion of his lungs growing less intense, there’s an unwavering ache stemming from his chest—whether from injury or heartache, he’s not sure. Steve wants to check on Tony, see for himself that he’s actually… that’s he’s gone. But he fears his presence will disturb the stoic and motherly Pepper, who’s currently stroking Tony’s hair with one hand, and using the other to cradle an inconsolable Peter. He wishes, he wants, he needs to take their pain away, but he can’t. He can’t fix or right this, no matter his willingness or desire to. Tony has paid the ultimate price. He has sacrificed himself to preserve the livelihood of Pepper and Morgan and Peter—maybe even for Steve, too. Tony is the reason he’s still breathing, the reason everyone has somehow survived the Mad Titan’s short but undeniably grim reign. 

A figure approaches from the left, broad shoulders and a sturdy frame cutting into his field of vision. Steve turns.

“Sam,” he breathes out.

The other man offers a sad, but relieved smile. “Hey Cap. It’s good to see,” replies Sam, arms reaching forward to wrap around the blonde in a tired hug.

Steve exhales into the embrace and grips his friend’s back, fingertips pressing into the collapsed wings of Sam’s suit. “Thanks for showing up.”

“Had to,” he says, and adds, “I knew your old ass would need backup.”

Steve laughs, low with the smallest bit of vibration. He appreciates Sam’s knack for turning an impossible situation into something even minutely bearable. Steve doesn’t want to seem unappreciative, but there's something he wants and needs to know. “Have you seen him?” He whispers, voice threatening to crack. 

As Sam moves to pull back from the hug, Steve’s head and instincts immediately tell him to prepare for the worst. He gulps down air, silently hoping he’ll choke rather than sob when his friend tells him the news he can’t bear to hear, with or without Sam’s welcomed humor. 

“Right here, you punk.” 

When the thick, smooth tone reaches Steve’s ear, his knees buckle and he releases the fractured shield to clutch at his stomach. But before vibranium can meet the torn-up earth, Sam swoops down to catch it and then steps out of the way.

Steve wants to move forward, close the gap between him and the brunette, but his entire being is refusing to function, suddenly paralyzed by the weight of his relief. Fortunately, the other man trudges into his space, eyes glued to his and blatantly ignoring the aftermath that surrounds them from every angle. Flesh and metal circle around his torso and Steve sags against the warm body before him.

“Oh God, Buck,” he chokes out, unsure of when he started crying. “I thought I would never see you again. I thought—”

“Hey, hey,” Bucky huffs into the top of Steve’s head. “We always find a way back to each other. Always.”

The quiet crying has now grown into heavy sobs that are no doubt dampening Bucky’s tactical jacket. And as much as Steve prides himself in being a beacon of strength and stoicism, he refuses to contain his emotions. Not now, not when he’s in the arms of someone he was convinced he’d never see or feel again.

He wants to lift his head so he can look into Bucky’s eyes, but he’s never been one for public displays of affection, and he knows that he won’t be able to keep himself from kissing the other man when he finally holds his gaze. Instead, he refuses to relinquish his hold and keeps his face buried in his partner’s chest like a child seeking comfort during a storm. While he stays put, Sam returns to whisper something in Bucky’s ear, he feels Bucky nod above him. 

“Steve,” Bucky starts, “Government officials are coming in to assess the damage. We have to clear out.”

Steve sighs and lifts his head, surveying the damage. “I don’t know where to go, Buck. The complex is…” he trails off.

“You’re welcome to set up camp at our house,” offers a kind voice. 

Steve turns out of Bucky’s embrace to face Pepper. He can’t help but let his eyes wander to Tony’s limp body, eager to see who’s at his side, who’s keeping him safe. Before he has the chance to return his gaze to Pepper and decline, she continues.

“Both of you.” She gestures toward Bucky and smiles softly. “Please.”

Steve exchanges a look with Bucky and nods. “Thank you,” Steve replies, hand extending to clasp hers in his worn glove. Pepper squeezes back and he notices her lip quiver. “What can I do, Pepper? How can I... help?”

Without letting go of his hand, she asks, “Would you—would you help Bruce c-carry him back?”

Steve’s eyes begin to well up. “Of course. Of course, I will.”

**BUCKY**

While Steve is with Bruce and Pepper, he and Sam busy themselves with setting up temporary shelter—tents brought in by FEMA crews—on the land surrounding Tony’s cabin. He’s not sure how long they’ll be here, but sleeping in a tent is better than most of the places he’s stayed. 

“Safe to assume you’ll be sharing a tent?”

“With you?” Bucky quips an eyebrow at Sam. “I know we’re bonding, but…”

“Ha ha ha,” Sam mocks. “You know, I think I liked you better when we were dusted. For real though, you and Blondy sharing so I don’t have to set up another one of these things?”

“Just for the sake of conserving your energy, sure.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I expect not to hear you two bumpin’ uglies tonight.”

“No promises,” Bucky shrugs. “Blondy tends to be rather vocal.”

Sam pretends to gag causing Bucky to release the beginnings of a belly laugh. 

It feels good to laugh. Laughing used to come easy for the brunet, but now, after everything, the moments where the mood is just as light as the air are a rare occurrence. As his own innocent and playful chuckle tapers off, he thinks of Steve’s laugh, heavy, thick, fully committed. His brain lights up with memories of the blond in his ma’s kitchen cackling so hard at a dumb joke Bucky heard down at the docks that he brought on a coughing fit. Before he can travel further down memory lane, Sam breaks the spell and motions for Bucky to look behind him with an upward nod.

Bucky cranes his neck and looks over his shoulder spotting Steve. He frowns when he notices that his better half is somehow looking worse for wear, more so than before. Aside from Steve’s forehead and hair, no longer masked by a helmet, he’s covered in a mixture of what Bucky assumes is ash, dirt, blood, and whatever other bodily fluids Thanos’ goons released. He wants to wipe it all away, scrub Steve’s skin clean until the pale flesh he’s itching to mark up with fluids of his own is revealed. And he knows there are cuts and bruises blossoming beneath the layer of grime and he wants to kiss those too before the serum does its job and everyone forgets Steve was near death yet again. But Bucky will never forget, he’ll never forget any of the times that his guy has been on the brink of death, only to get back up like it was just another tussle in a Brooklyn back alley with some lousy punk.  
Steve comes to a standstill before Bucky and Sam, and places his hands on his hips, eventually angling his wide frame toward the brunet. 

“All set?” Sam asks, voice shy, eyes heavy. 

Steve gives a single, solemn nod without meeting his gaze. “So,” he exhales, eyes admiring the makeshift camp surrounding them. “Which one of these is…”

“Ours?” Bucky finishes.

“Yeah,” the blond sighs with a slight smile, hand extending to catch Bucky’s flesh wrist. “Ours.” He repeats.

Sam grunts, disrupting the moment. “Before some graphic reunion happens, I’m going to excuse myself.”

“Stay, Sam. I’m actually going to take advantage of Pepper’s offer of a shower.”

“That shower big enough for two?” Bucky tries to whisper just for Steve’s ears but seemingly fails if Sam’s disgruntled snort is anything to go by. 

“And that’s my cue.” He waves, turning on his heel. Before Bucky or Steve can comment, Sam’s heading further into the woods. “Don’t use up all the hot water,” he adds, almost out of earshot.

Once their friend disappears among the thick trees and brush, Bucky closes the gap between him and Steve by tugging the oversized blond into his space. He laughs at the “oof” Steve releases when their chests collide with an audible smack. Bucky noses at the skin behind Steve’s ear, wanting to taste the skin but avoiding the mouthful of bitter filth he’s fairly certain he would be met with. 

“Come on,” Bucky says, continuing to nudge Steve’s neck. “Let’s go use up that hot water.”

“Buck,” the blond scoffs. “As nice as that sounds, I’m not sure that’s the best idea with kids around.”

Bucky sighs in quiet and understanding defeat and lets his metal arm slide around Steve’s waist with a hum. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

Steve laughs. “No, I can’t.”

Bucky walks with Steve up to the house, preparing to part while Steve cleans up, but before he can turn and begin the short trek back, a tiny hand is suddenly poking at the plates of his arm. He glances down to see the eager and youthful eyes of Tony Stark, in a much smaller form, staring in wonderment at the metal. 

“Sorry,” Pepper steps forward grabbing the little girl’s hand. “This,” she starts, “is Morgan.”

Bucky crouches down to Morgan’s level. “Hi, Morgan. I’m Bucky Barnes,” he offers gently, extending his flesh hand.

The girl shifts behind Pepper’s legs and whispers, “Hi.” Pepper coaxes her forward, but instead of gripping his flesh hand, she reaches for the metal one once more.

“You like this one, huh?”

She nods, eyes beginning to glitter again.

“Seems to me you’re a Stark.”

Pepper laughs at that. “Through and through,” she smiles, eyes heavy. “We were just about to head inside to make a pillow fort. It appears neither of us would like to sleep in our beds tonight. We could use a hand?”

“The metal one, please,” pipes up Morgan.

Bucky laughs at her forthrightness. “How about both?”

Morgan nods eagerly and scurries inside. Pepper follows, hand grazing the shoulder of a shrouded figure by the door. Bucky rises and squints. It’s Steve.

“Creep,” he teases, approaching the door. As he gets closer, the light from inside illuminates the blond’s face and he can’t mistake the fondness that’s etched across it.

“It’s just nice to see,” Steve drawls. “You always were good with kids, animals, women, parents—”

“You.” Bucky cuts him off. 

Steve throws his head back. “Yeah, me too. Never was immune to your charm.” 

Bucky wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, he quips, “Get in the shower, sap. I’ve got a fort to build,” and heads inside to the living room to help Morgan disassemble the couch.

_He and Steve will get their moment soon_, he thinks.


End file.
